A Thanksgiving Entry from the Traveling Journal of Henry H Benson
by equine02
Summary: I was soon on my way, and we trotted briskly down the road till fatigue urged me to kick my horse into a canter, that I might not fall asleep; it was in vain, however, because the freezing air had long ago penetrated to my bones, and now I quite certainly had caught the dreaded cold.


**Okay, so usually I write more casual stuff, but I felt like messing around with the English Literature style. It's only a one-shot right now, because this type of writing takes a** _ **long**_ **time.**

 **I do own them! These characters are of my own making (YAY! Feels so good to own your own little set of make-believe people!), but any similarities to other characters in other fandoms are purely coincidence. Okay? Okay!**

There is a small town which has flourished quite remarkably, in England. It is indeed a very, very, small town, and so when I say it has, "flourished," this is purely in reference to its remarkable inhabitants. They are a poor group, yes, but of course, this causes the circles of frivolous gossip to only be known as myth, and possibly even entertainment, according to those who know the people there best, and those who participate in the activity of falsely indifferent storytelling of the others.

Of course, you've probably never heard of it- this is not a complete loss, as you see, the people in this town, which is commonly known as Berrychester, are rather partial to having few visitors, and they do stir up quite a fuss when there are very many people intruding on their "intricate circles" and trampling their prized collections of knickknacks from years long past. Of course, this is not to say they do not enjoy occasional chatter with an outsider who happens to be a kind and quiet soul. It is in fact, very intriguing to the unmarried ladies of this town to constantly be dropping all sorts of paraphernalia in order that they might meet some handsome, young suitor with a fortune as large as his pride. Oh, do excuse my insensitivity- I am quite baffled, and have been since a fortnight ago when I myself stumbled upon Barrychester. You see, I was terribly fatigued- Oh, I shall tell it from the start, as I have found it is a great weakness of mine to tell these affairs in small parts, after which the reader is left unfathomably stunned and disgruntled and a quite thirsty for more.

My ordeal began in November, a time which is generally set in a whirl of chilliness, sniffles, and the undying complaints of ones traveling companions, especially on the female side.

I was riding through the country after parting ways with a gaggle of the unruliest traveling companions I had ever commenced to take company with. Three women, all of which bread on the high pedestal of wealth, and so completely indifferent to me that I had decided to altogether ignore them, in the politest way, and one small, fat man, who made it immediately known to myself and the young driver that his girls were all to be married to the finest of the finest, and that we must be sure to avert our minds to other subjects than marriage. I complied, and I must venture to say that the driver had not a care but for his own well-being, as it was a rather chill day, and we were all afeared to catch a cold.

I had not bundled properly, I may now confess, and upon stepping off the carriage in the next town, found myself feeling quite underdressed, as a glazed ham might without his glossy finish…. That being said, I was anxious to be on my way, and in no dire need to relive my small hunger, and so immediately set off, and rented myself a horse. The fellow who rented me the horse was a kind one, and bestowed upon me a woolen scarf, in a deep shade of green, for which I could not seem to thank him enough.

I was soon on my way, and we trotted briskly down the road till fatigue urged me to kick my horse into a canter, that I might not fall asleep; it was in vain, however, because the freezing air had long ago penetrated to my bones, and now I quite certainly had the dreaded cold.

It was not long after this however before I lost the feeling in my hands, but for a dull throb, and was terribly certain it was frostbite that had decided to plague my already tired body. I slowly slid off my horse, and set to walking, for it seemed only right to do. It did not however aid in the warming of my limbs, and I very soon was shivering, and yet quite hot at the same time- it was odd, that one minute I should be freezing to death, and the next, as a furnace.

Eventually I came across Berrychester, and promptly put my horse up in the barn, which I found to be void of all human presence. Shivering quite violently now, I thought perhaps a drink might help, and so stumbled across the street to a tiny tavern. Inside I found it to be, unsurprisingly, filled with only men. There were seven in all, and a very tidy man who served the drinks. Even after several, I still felt a bit off. The occupants of the room all stared ruthlessly at me, the weary traveler, and so I could do nothing but gaze at my own discolored hands in faux transfixion, trying to thaw them to no avail. It was all very awkward, I must confess.

It is here that I am faced with the challenge of admitting human weakness. My own, to be sure. Though it has brought many a night of personal scoffing, I can only say that I thank my fevered collapse for saving me from the torturous gazes of many curious persons.

* * *

When I came to the world was indeed a different thing. I stared half-coherently up at a blurry grey ceiling. It must have been some time in the early hours of morning, and I knew this because I heard one voice say to another, "I shall start breakfast and send Kitty up to sit with him so you may rest."

The next time I woke I was positively drenched. There was no light in the room, but I shivered. Someone seemed to jolt awake, their chair clattering noisily in my new alertness. Heels could be heard hurrying across the floors, which I could tell were wooden by the sound of the shoes upon them.

"Oh, praise the Lord, he lives!" A woman's voice called, lovely sounding as women's voices often are after an ordeal, and a hand was felt upon my brow. The heels scurried away, and all the while their owner shouted, "His fever has broken! Mother, Father, Kitty! Wake up, Charles, James, come, you must help me!"

I woke again a short time later, this time to feel hands about me, covering me, checking my pulse, but they were the hands of men.

"Good morning, my boy," said a first voice. It was finely bred in accent, and with the baritone of a renaissance king. "How do you feel?" I could feel the vibrations of his voice through the fingers laid on my wrist, and thus connected the two to understand that the one taking my pulse must also be the one speaking.

"Ohh," was all I could muster up the strength to say. How my head pounded, and I only wanted to rest! However, it felt entirely insensitive to fall asleep just then.

"Sir, begging your pardon, only would you tell me, who are?" asked another voice this one higher, with rugged excitement which was traceable by its rapidity in speech.

"James, hush, the man is half dead! Have you no mercy for the ears of the ill?" another chimed in, and 'James' quieted much like a snuffed-out candle ceases to glow.

"Now boys," came the baritone voice again, "Quiet yourselves. Charles, you're almost as bad as James. Now shush, while we let the man think a moment."

Slowly, oh, ever so slowly, I tried to push myself up. I remember only that my vision was too blurry to see the strangers, and thought perhaps I might clear my head if only I was to arise.

However, it was not to be. My weakness was great, and I struggled for but a moment before collapsing back to the bed. "Pardon-" my voice was ever so raspy, and cracked, "wa-"

"Water?"

I nodded. Slowly, rough hands slid beneath my head, and when it was lifted, found that sweat had gathered there, knowing this only because of the cold sensation which flooded the area. I cringed, only slightly, flinching away when the freezing water met my parched lips.

A funny thought just then dropped upon my conscious mind, and it almost caused a laugh to come forth, though I was still too weak yet even to speak. My thought was this; _I do so wonder if my hair is black, just now?_

Now I shall explain the reason for my thinking this.

I have been blessed with a full head of dark brown hair, said trait being my reason for being only a bit vain, and when it becomes wet in any way, it has the appearance of ebony. It isn't a funny thought, not really. But in the moment, though my fever had broken, I was still delirious. Anyhow, to continue with my telling of how it was:

"Par-don..." I croaked, "Pardon for asking…." I heard them rustling about, and sensed them exchanging glances above me, "Where? Who are-" I would not finish this sentence, for coughing took hold of my lungs in a most horrible way, and I nearly sat up, gripped in the seizing of my lungs.

Hands pushed me back down, then guided yet more water into my mouth. I believe that is all I can remember, and soon again, I was unconscious.

* * *

At last, I could awaken to the sound of nothing. No voices. It was blissful silence, in which I could meditate on regards to how long I may have been lying there. I figured it must have been a day or two, and was then quite surprised when I turned my head and saw that snow was packed up to the window. It had been cold, though not enough to snow when I'd come stumbling in…. that much snow could happen along in a terrible quickness, or could take days. It only depended on circumstance.

I decided to try my hand at sitting, though I was still feeling miserably fatigued. Eventually, I was able to lean against the headboard, and gaze about the room in a proper way. It was a plain, small room, with high ceilings, and tall windows. I closed my eyes to block the strands of vibrant sun which streamed through the glass. I felt still nauseous, and slid deftly into the covers once more. Before I could allow myself to sleep yet again, the door creaked open, and I, who had gained this new alertness with enthusiasm, finally able to understand my surroundings, jolted to see who had entered.

It was a teenage boy, perhaps ten or so years younger than I, at the age of approximately fifteen. His clothes were simple, and his light brown hair lay tousled on his head. He was not entirely unagreeable to look at- in fact, he gave the impression of an entirely sufficient companion with which one might do just anything that one set his mind to do.

"Hello," he came over, and poured from a pitcher by my bedside some cool, clear water into a small cup. "Here, now, drink up."

I took the cup with much gratitude. After he set it down, he dragged a chair over to the bedside, and sat, "How are you feeling, Sir?"

"A well as can be said of the likes of myself. How long have I been here?"

"Nearly a fortnight, Sir. You collapsed Friday, and it is now Wednesday, as I said, a fortnight later. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving."

"Thanksgiving?" I was of course, highly alarmed to have lost so very much time. My family in London would be quite worried for me, as I had been missing for so many days. "Where are the others?" I finally asked.

"Father is a doctor, and he is away with my older brother, Charles. My sister and mother are at Mrs. Flincher's for tea, and my other young sister is most likely reading. She reads all sorts of things, you know. Newspapers and such."

"Remarkable." I murmured.

"How do you mean? It is perfectly fine for a woman to read, is it not?" He began to hold a tone of irritation in his voice, but I was quick to apologize with all profuseness.

"Oh, that is not at all what I had intended to say!" I blinked, feeling my eyelids gaining momentum on their downward trek. "Only that you seem to be quite unalarmed at my waking, placid, even. As I recall, you were quite anxious to question me when first I woke."

"I didn't think you might remember that," he looked down at his shoes, "You know, I am very glad you are awake, and I shall have to tell Laura that you will be fine. She has worried so."

He left me then, to my thoughts, and I am ashamed to admit I fell asleep long before this 'Laura' ever set eyes upon my conscious self.

And so, the hours passed, and soon days. I sent word to my family that I was fine, explaining in intense detail all which had occurred since I had been realized to be missing.

As you may have gathered, the next day after my waking was Thanksgiving, and I will be proud to say I have never dined so well. The good doctor was a kind man, and his morals shall ever be seen to me as the greatest treasure a man might give.

And so, in summary, if this entry in the saga of my life is not as you expected it to be, this is why; I am not partial to commiseration upon the affairs of gossiping women or men, but instead have found it quite enlightening and satisfying to remain focused on the people who I have come to love dearly.

So, my readers, one day, happens you stumble upon a town such as Berrychester, be sure to say hello to any kind souls who may silently desire the smallest of conversations, and of course, remember to bundle well.

-Henry H. Benson


End file.
